


Water everywhere and not a drop to freeze

by Kartaylir



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Delicately scented with some of your other freeforms, F/F, Oviposition, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles, Tentacles that secrete aphrodisiacs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kartaylir/pseuds/Kartaylir
Summary: Azshara has a particular use in mind for a powerful mage, and the means to ensure Jaina Proudmoore can't offer too much resistance.
Relationships: Azshara/Jaina Proudmoore
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	Water everywhere and not a drop to freeze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soulstoned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulstoned/gifts).

Every inch of the room is dry. Carved with decorations of the sea, and yet the style of the Naga here seems only a little distant from their elven heritage. The pillows might have come from the Nighthold, the pillars from some stronghold of the Night Elves that have served as stalwart, if vengeful, allies to the Alliance.

It is only the distant dome above, the glow of some massive fish the distance, that give away Jaina Proudmoore’s predicament.

That and the ancient queen before her.

Azshara has been a wonder and terror in the tales of her. A being consumed by pride, a queen beautiful beyond all others.

And beautiful still, loathe as Jaina may be to admit it. Sharp edges and five eyes burning orange in the shadows. Perhaps burning all before them. But Jaina has survived so much before.

“So, the mortals produce mages of strength after all,” Azshara says.

Jaina struggles against her bonds at those words. Looks down and realizes she is already wrapped within tentacles, holding her so gently as to leave no bruises. There’s a warmth to them, something that makes her ache for lost memory; the dreams of something buried beneath water and ancient earth.

It is not enough enough to distract Jaina from her focus. Her mana may be weak but she refuses to halt, to relent to the will of this ancient terror. 

There is little water in the air, or scattered atop the surface of the floor. The ocean that surrounds them it too distant to be of use. 

“Such a use you’ll be to me then,” Azshara continues, and her tentacles twitch. The glowing mass of smaller tendrils around her head turns toward Jaina.

One tentacle has already slid down to wrap itself around Jaina’s thigh, and now it gently twists its way upward. It’s soon between the press of her legs, pushing cloth aside as it reaches up inside.

“You’ll be less condescending when I freeze you,” Jaina says. Something wet drips down her thigh to meet the tentacle. It pushes inside her, sudden and sharp until there are tears in her eyes. 

Water is her favorite weapon, after a fashion. 

“Such ingratitude,” Azshara says, and leans in closer. The tendrils caress Jaina’s cheek. “You know not how you’ve been favored.”

There’s a heat in that as well, as if the Queen’s desire is echoed in Jaina’s flesh. The opposite of the ice she needs. She can still dream of a spear of it for Azshara’s heart.

“I don’t need your favors.” Jaina feels the tears down her cheek; twists on the tentacle that has speared her until such tears multiply. Even the smallest hint of frost is more than nothing.

“You’ll beg for them soon enough.” Azshara shifts, turning her body until Jaina can see what lies beneath, what is held between the ridged expanse of tentacles.

A beak, it seems at first. Longer than those of the octopus, but just as strong. As sharp. Something is held within it, a sphere bigger than Jaina’s fist.

An egg, and her face turns pale at that realization. She wriggles again and turns her tears to balls of ice. The ache between her legs to a sheet of cold.

Already she knows it is not enough.

“Don’t waste your magic,” Azshara says, as another tentacle tightens around Jaina’s other leg. “You’ll need it to survive what is to come.

Then her tentacles wrench Jaina's legs apart. Azshara's her smile remains all too gentle. As if nothing could threaten her, could even dent the queen's pride.

The second of the tentacles wrapped around Jaina's legs pushes inside. Its movement dusts hints of frost down past her thighs. Specks of water near her ankles as the ice melts. Her body feels bathed in the warmth now, enough that she merely moans as the tentacles push further within her. Her flesh feels tender wherever they touch, wanting. Her eyes blur through some new haze. 

“Better,” Azshara says. “You’ll be such a useful pet.”

Then Jaina’s thoughts are clouded as well. The not-quite fullness within her, the way desire spikes whenever a tentacle slides slick across her clit. Azshara done something to her, she knows, and yet it’s so distant of a thought behind sudden impatience.

“Please, I—” Jaina can’t quite bring herself to beg.

“What is that, little mage?” Two of Azshara’s arms clutch at Jaina’s breasts now, nails hardly impeded by fragile cloth. The other arms, the upper ones, caress Jaina’s cheek, her ear.

Jaina tries to spread her legs further, to ensure she’s filled, and finds she cannot move. But the tentacles each pull to a side, then stop. Hold her wet and open and waiting.

“Finally,” Azshara says, with a near-spoiled impatience. She leans back, and Jaina basks in the glow of orange glow eyes, the tendrils about her skull, the spikes and fins that form the only crown Azshara wears now.  
  
And so it is that Jaina does not flinch at the chitinous, spear-like thing until it slides inside. The surface of it is smooth, and as it presses in the tentacles remain to pull her even more open. For a moment she wonders if it will pull her apart, and then the warmth takes her again. The girth of it presses along every sensitive point between her legs.

Heat spreads down her legs, across her stomach. A muted groan of longing escapes Jaina as Azshara settles fully within her, as the filigree of the Queen’s clothes jut against her breasts.

The first thrust makes Jaina’s hips ache, her body shudder. Another thrust, and the queen's other tentacles wrap around her, lean her back just a fraction. The warmth spreads sill, over hands and breasts, numbs even Jaina’s tongue so that she cannot beg.

A few small tears trickle down her cheek as Azshara’s pleasure blossoms inside her; whatever it is the Queen has thrust within her begins to open. Sharp points expand within Jaina, the gap between them widening in turn as the egg within is pressed into her.

If she could move at all she’d burst with the fulfillment of it; defiance melted away before whatever Azshara’s touch has done to her.

“You can handle two,” Azshara says, and pulls one hand from Jaina’s breast. With it she undoes her own clothing, unlaces her decorations of gold while the two of them are still interlaced.

Then she leans in until her body rests against Jaina’s with no gap between them. Close enough to whisper in Jaina’s ears.

And then, again, she thrusts. Harder, rhythm kept by her many-limbed grasp. Quicker as well, unfolding within Jaina again until she might be speared twice if she dared move. The fullness of it stretches her stomach, pushes their two bodies even tighter.

Two of the tentacles move from Jaina’s back to her side as Azshara smiles in release. They toy at the sides of Jaina’s breast, tease until her nipples rub against Azshara’s rougher skin.

A spell breaks, the scent of mana freed in the air. Every inch of Jaina’s body shudders with repressed sensation, and she tries to push Azshara further within her until her nerves can stand the pleasure no more.

The release of it is long, muffled as Jaina buries her mouth against Azshara’s chest. Finally, her shaking ceases.

“Hold still again,” Azshara says, and taps the end of one tentacle against Jaina’s forehead. “My handmaidens will care for you now. I’ll be sure they’re gentle; I would not see my eggs come to harm.” 

Then Azshara pulls herself loose. Leaves Jaina standing there, dripping between her legs as her hand explores the sudden tautness of her stomach. If there is any magic left within her reach she cannot feel it.

But as her mind clears, Jaina Proudmoore can feel the dread of everything else.


End file.
